


There Be Dragons

by Miya_Morana



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Coming Out, Getting Together, M/M, Sirius/Remus - background relationship, Trans Character, Trans Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:49:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26994697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miya_Morana/pseuds/Miya_Morana
Summary: (Written for the Trans Wizard Tournament charity auction.)Harry has been Draco's friend since they were 11 years old, the keeper of his secret, and his best ally. This is the story of how Draco became who he was always meant to be.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 6
Kudos: 151





	There Be Dragons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PhenomenalAsterisk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhenomenalAsterisk/gifts).



> Huge thanks to Phenomenal Asterisk for bidding on me in the auction, and for the generous donation. I hope you don't mind the liberties I took with your original prompt, as this ened up being more about the journey than the destination. 
> 
> Many thanks also go to Ectoplamsic Hammer for the sensivity read.

_“They paint the world full of shadows, and then tell their children to stay close to the light. Their light. Their reasons, their judgments. Because in the darkness, there be dragons. But it isn't true. […] In the dark, there is discovery, there is possibility. There is freedom in the dark once someone has illuminated it.”_  
Captain Flint, Black Sails, Season 3: XXVII

***

Harry and his godfathers move to London just after his 11th birthday. Sirius’ estranged mother passed away, and he inherited his childhood house.

“Are you sure you don’t want to sell it?” Remus asks as they pack up the last of Walburga’s belongings. “I know you have some bad memories from this place.”

“I’m sure,” Sirius smiles. “I want to make new memories, good memories, with my actual family.” He takes Remus’ and Harry’s hands in his, smiling. It’s a soft smile, full of love, then it turns a little wicked as his eyes fall on the portrait of his mother that doesn’t quite fit in the cardboard box. “Plus, she’d hate this.”

Harry knows, of course, that Sirius had to leave his home because his parents found out he was in love with another boy. Some people’s hatred is stronger than their love for their children. Other people’s love is greater than blood ties, though, and Harry’s grandparents had taken Sirius in as if he were their own son, just like Sirius and Remus took Harry in when Harry’s parents died. 

“Maybe seeing you happy would have taught her that she was wrong,” Harry muses.

Remus makes a doubtful face, but Sirius looks pensively at Harry. “Maybe. It’s good to hope the best from people.” He squeezes Harry’s hand, then picks up the portrait and takes it to the entrance hall. “Let her see what a loving family really is, okay?”  
After they’ve hung the portrait above the front door, Remus looks at his watch and nudges Sirius. “They’ll be here soon. It’s up to you.”

“I don’t think I have the energy to argue with Narcissa more than strictly necessary,” Sirius sighs. This is gonna be painful as it is, no use for the two of you to get caught in the middle of it.”

“Come on Harry,” Remus says after kissing Sirius on the cheek. “Let’s grab your football and have some fun in the backyard.

The backyard is as big as the apartment the three of them used to share, and Harry wastes no time moving a couple of chairs against one of the walls to serve as goal posts and “practice”. Remus settles on another chair with a book.

They haven’t been out there for long when a blond kid walks out from the house, pouting. Remus looks up from his book, looks back inside the house through the window. Sirius is leading a blond woman up the stairs. He didn’t know Narcissa had a child about Harry’s age.

“Hello,” Harry says carefully. “I’m Harry.”

The child hesitates briefly, looking back at the house. “Draco,” he replies, almost a whisper, then repeats with more confidence: “I’m Draco. Can I play?”

Harry grins. They play for a while, laughing, and when they are too tired they lay in the grass and talk about their favourite teams and players. 

“This is great,” Draco sighs eventually. “Mother won’t let me play on the grass at home, she says it isn’t dignified. But it’s so comfortable!”

“How do you play football if you can’t go on the grass?” Harry asks, sitting up to look at Draco’s face.

Draco makes a face. “I don’t, mostly. I only get to play when I’m visiting Pansy, but she doesn’t actually enjoy it. Or at school, when I can convince other people.”

“You should come by and play with me,” Harry offers with a bright smile.

“Mother doesn’t like your…” he frowns, looking more carefully at Harry’s face. “You don’t look like cousin Sirius at all, is he your father?”

“Godfather,” Harry shrugs, trying for nonchalant. He plucks at the grass. “My parents died in a car accident when I was little.”

“Ah, sorry,” Draco winces. “Mother doesn’t like your godfather, I don’t think she’d bring me here again.”

“Bummer,” Harry pouts. “You’re a cool guy, it would have been nice to have a friend here.”

Draco grins at that. “Yeah, I am!” It sounds cocky and slightly arrogant and strangely _happy_. 

Harry laughs and throws a handful of grass at the blond’s face. 

They are in the middle of a fierce grass battle when a woman’s voice rings through the yard, cold and furious. Draco freezes and blenches, even though the woman didn’t call his name, but a girl’s name. Harry frowns, opens his mouth to ask a question, and catches Draco’s scared, pleading blue eyes. He closes his mouth.

Draco picks himself off the ground, dusting the blades of grass from his clothes. There are green stains on his jeans, and his mother is glaring at them, her mouth a thin, angry line. Draco walks up to her and she picks the last of the grass from Draco’s hair. Draco turns his head to wave at Harry. “Goodbye.”

“Bye,” Harry replies, noting how rigid Draco’s shoulders look.

When they are gone, Harry turns to Remus. “He said his name was Draco.”

“I heard. I think he would like it to be.” 

They have a talk, after that, about what being a boy or a girl really means. Remus suspects it’s the kind of talk Walburga Black would have not wanted to happen in her house. He suspects neither would Narcissa Malfoy. His heart aches for her child.

***

When Draco realises Harry now goes to the same school as him, he panics. Thankfully it’s a big school and they aren’t in the same class, which makes avoiding him easier, up until the sign-ups for the inter-school football tournament. Convincing his parents to let him join had been a long and hard fight, but he almost doesn’t show to the try-outs anyway. When he walks to the field, Harry spots him and waves with a smile.

Draco nervously pushes his hair back behind his ears. It’s starting to be too long, too feminine, and he’s tempted to just take a scissors to them again, but he doubts he could re-use “a boy put bubblegum in my hair and I couldn’t get it out” as an excuse again.

He didn’t notice Harry making his way to him, but there he is, with his dishevelled hair and bright green eyes and stupid smile. _Please don’t say anything, please, not here, not in public._

“Hey, Malfoy.”

Draco stares. Harry’s eyes seem to ask “is that okay?” and his smile turns to a worried expression as Draco stays silent.

“Ah, would you prefer I-” Harry starts, but Draco cuts him off.

“Malfoy is fine.” He smiles a little, daring to hope that Harry _gets it_. “Hey Potter.”

A teacher starts explaining how the try-outs will work, and they fall silent. When he’s done, they sit together on the bench to wait their turn, and start commenting on the other children’s skills in hushed whispers.

“It’s a pity there’s only one open spot in the team,” Harry says eventually. “You’ll have to be satisfied with joining the reserve.”

“What?” Draco hisses, glaring. 

“Well yeah, there’s no way you’ll beat me!” Harry grins.

Draco goes very still. For a moment, just a handful of minutes really, he’d thought… But no, Harry doesn’t get it. How could he.

“Because I’m a _girl_ ,” he spats, dejectedly.

“You’re not,” Harry replies with an eyeroll. “But you also don’t get to play often, whereas I’ve been playing with friends every day since the start of school. I’m gonna beat you, man.”

“No one beats a Malfoy,” Draco says, haughtily, while his heart beats faster in his chest.

Harry laughs, and laughs again when Draco declares him his “nemesis” after Harry is selected to join the main team. Thus begins a ridiculous rivalry between them, mostly fuelled by Draco’s “everything you can do I can do better” attitude and Harry’s tendency to never back down from a challenge. It doesn’t even stop when Draco joins the main team the next year. On the contrary, they seem to always want to out-do each other on the field.

They’re friends though, in spite of it, and in spite of belonging to different circles. When they’re alone or no one can hear, Harry calls him Draco, and Draco feels like he can finally breathe properly. Finely be himself. It’s like someone turning on a light and chasing off the darkness he hadn’t quite been aware was creeping in. 

And in public, it’s always Malfoy, never that other name, the one Draco hates.

The first time he goes back to Harry’s house (telling his parents he’s going to a friend’s to work on a group project for school), his cousin Sirius greets him by his chosen name under the portrait of great-aunt Walburga, and Sirius’ partner Remus calls him “young man”. Draco manages to wait until Harry and him are alone in Harry’s room to burst into tears.

***

Harry scowls through their whole practice, and Draco’s getting very irritated. He’d already woken up feeling miserable, both physically and mentally, as his body was on its bullshit monthly reminder that he had a uterus, and does not need his best friend to be pissed off at him for no reason. When they’re done, he storms off the field and towards the changing rooms, glaring extra hard at the little figure in a dress drawn on the door. 

Before he could reach it, Harry grabs his arm and drags him into the supply room, closing the door behind them. Draco glares at Harry, though he can see now that his friend looks more worried than angry.

“I heard you were dating Blaise Zabini,” Harry says finally.

“So?”

“So?” Harry repeats, looking bewildered. “I know you don’t want people to know, but you don’t have to force yourself to date a guy to maintain your cover! Especially not someone like Zabini.” Who has the reputation of having slept with half the girls in school, he doesn’t say, but Draco can read it on his face.

He relaxes. “Are you… worried he’s forcing me to do something I don’t want to?”

“Is he?” Harry asks, serious.

Draco smiles slyly. “Believes me, he’s not doing anything I don’t want him to.” He raises a suggestive eyebrow. Harry doesn’t need to know that they haven’t gotten much past first base yet.

Harry’s jaw drops. “I thought you liked girls!”

Draco shrugs. “I do, too.”

“Oh.” Harry sits down on a pile of footballs, then gets back up again when the whole thing shifts under his weight. “I’m an idiot I guess,” he says, sheepishly.

“Well yeah,” Draco replies haughtily, then breaks into a smile. “But your heart is in the right place.”

Harry sighs. “There’s something else I’ve been meaning to talk to you about, while we’re here.”

“You know the longest we spend in this room the more rumours we’re dating will spread, right?” Draco teases, and is oddly satisfied to see Harry faintly blush.

“Ah, not for long. Seamus has asked me to go to the school fair with him. On a date.”

It’s Draco’s turn to go “Oh”.

***

A whole year runs by between the day Harry publicly comes out and the day Draco tells his parents he isn’t, in fact, a young woman. It’s difficult, and they do not understand at first. There is a lot of screaming, a lot of tears, and a lot of slammed doors. On the next day, Draco hands Harry a pair of scissors and tells him not to call him Malfoy anymore. The haircut is hideous, and Remus needs to fix it later, but Draco’s mind is made: no more pretending.

Things are hard for a while. Draco’s parents are relentless, and his schoolmates keep bombarding him with questions until Hermione Granger of all people shows up with pamphlets and a stern speech about how it was their own responsibilities to get educated, and not Draco’s to teach them. 

Draco’s never really been friends with Harry’s group, was even outright awful to them at some points in the past. And yet, here is Ron Weasley, holding the door to the boys’ locker room for him and staring down anyone who tries to comment on it.

(Years later, they’ll tell him all about how Harry had talk to them about “Draco” for years before that, so when they realized _he_ was that Draco guy, things finally made sense to them.)

He spends all his evenings on the phone with Harry. That’s what gets him through the worst of it, especially after his father threatens to throw him out.

After a week, Pansy comes to him, apologises for having needed time to understand and readjust, and offers to do alterations on any clothes he might want to make more masculine. His name is changed on class lists, and though teachers sometimes trip up most of them make the effort to address him properly.

Then one day he gets home and his parents are waiting for him. His father looks resigned, and his mother apprehensive, but Draco sits down when his mother asks him to. There’s a strange tension in the air, something different.

“We had an unexpected visit yesterday,” his mother starts. “At first, I was very tempted to slam the door in his face. But I figured Sirius wouldn’t be there without a reason.”

Draco pales slightly. “Do not blame this on him. I was me even before I first met him.”

Narcissa sighs. “His friend told us about your first encounter with their godson. I did not… I hadn’t realised it had been going on for so long. Why didn’t you tell us before?”

Draco raises an eyebrow. “Gee, mother, I wonder.”

“You should not have spent time in that place behind our backs,” his father cuts in, his voice icy cold. “And there _will_ be consequences to your lies.” He takes a deep breathe, and when he continues, his voice is a little bit less harsh. “However, they provided a little more insight.”

“Then this morning, we were thoroughly scolded by your friend,” his mother asks, with a sad smile.

“What?”

“Mister Potter apparently skipped school to come yell at us. He told us all about this wonderful, fierce, smart friend of his. The person he described reminded me of Lucius when I met him.” She looks at Draco’s father, her face softening. 

“Funny, he reminded me of you,” Lucius replies with a similar expression. “I think I’d really like to get to know that young man.”

Draco blinks at them.

“We can’t promise it’s gonna be easy,” his mother says. “It still makes me uncomfortable and confused. I won’t lie to you: I do not understand it. Hopefully, one day I will. Right now, all I know is that you’re my child, and love should always matter most. So hello Draco, it’s nice to meet you.”

(Draco owes his mother for his stubbornness. Once Narcissa decides to make this work, she makes it work. It takes much longer for Lucius to be really comfortable with his son.)

***

They end up working at the same company, climbing through the ranks of their respective departments, always eager to one-up each other, and to prove themselves to each other. They’re having lunch together, and Harry is stealing Draco’s fries, and Draco is clearly pretending not to notice. His blue eyes seem focused on Harry’s face, and suddenly Draco raises a hand, wipes something off of Harry’s upper lip with his thumb.

Harry freezes.

For a moment, Draco’s hand stays there, brushing his mouth and chin, as they stare into each other’s eyes. Then Draco takes his hand back, wipes off the ketchup on his thumb with a napkin. “Don’t be so disgusting when you eat, Potter,” he tries to deflect, but Harry can see the blush creeping up Draco’s neck.

Harry’s tongue flicks over his lips, and Draco is staring staring. It’s not the first time something like this has happened. In a few seconds, one of them will look away, they’ll remember at least one of them is currently in a relationship, that they’re best friends, that some things shouldn’t be messed with.

Except for the first time in a long time they’re both single. Except Draco isn’t looking away. And neither is Harry. Draco’s eyes are mesmerizing, twin blue pools, so clear Harry feels like he’s falling into the sky. He remembers all the times their hands have brushed, all the times they’ve leaned against each other as they watched movies or played video games, all the times they’ve held each other when one of them was sad, all the times Draco had looked at Harry exactly like this, like Harry was the only thing that mattered in the whole world.

Harry realises he’s scared. Not scared that Draco will say no, deep down he know Draco wants this too, has for a long time. But he’s scared that it might not last. Or that he’ll mess it up. And what then? What if it all falls apart and Harry loses both his boyfriend and his best friend? Break-ups can be messy.

_But what if I don’t try it, and I keep comparing everyone I date to Draco and find them wanting? Stop being scared and make the first move before he beats you to it, you idiot!_

Harry leans in. Draco’s eyes widen, then close as their lips touch. They both jump when the cafeteria around them erupts in applauses and wolf-whistles. He’d forgotten they were at work.

“Oops?” Harry says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

When they tell their friends, there’s a chorus of “took you long enough”, and then they find out there had been a betting pool on when they’d finally get together. To everyone’s surprised, Neville won. Hermione is grinning as she tells him the news on the phone.

Harry finds it all mortifyingly embarrassing. Had they really been so obvious? (“Yes,” Ron and Pansy reply in unison.) He looks at Draco, who smiles calmly at him, and Harry’s heart does a little summersault in his chest. His Draco. Finally.

Draco’s lips are a little chapped and rough, and his mouth is eager, his tongue is bold, and Harry shifts his body to get closer. A cushion lands on his face, forcing them a part. 

“Seriously you two, get a room,” Ron grins.

***

They go on dates. Proper dates, like going to the movies and dinners in nice restaurants and romantic walks in the park. Really, it’s all things they’ve done together before, so it shouldn’t feel so new and precious and incredible.

But Draco can’t help falling more and more in love with Harry with each step together, each moment he gets to hold his hand, each second they spend together. It’s like he’d been holding back his feelings for so long, a gigantic reservoir had built up, and now that he’s let himself feel it it’s all spilling over into him, drowning him in his love for Harry. The dam has broken. He’s lost at sea. He does not care, because Harry is right there with him.

Harry wraps his arms around Draco’s shoulders, lets Draco push him against the door of his flat as they kiss. There’s a scandalized gasp from somewhere behind Draco, and Harry muffles his laughter against Draco’s shoulder while Draco turns around to apologizes to his elderly neighbour.

“I don’t care what you and your pretty boy do, Mr Malfoy, as long as you do it on the other side of that door!”

“Yes Mrs Figgs. Won’t happen again, Mrs Figgs,” Draco promises as he struggles to find his keys.

The old woman is looking severely at him, but whe Harry waves to her, she gives him a soft smile, waves back. It’s absolutely not fair that she’s always played favorite with Harry, ever since that time he found her missing cat. She opens her own door, nimbly catches said cat that tries to escape and walk in just as Draco hushers Harry inside his own flat.

“I am so sorry,” Draco whines once they’re inside, leaning against the door.

“She called me your pretty boy,” Harry comments. He’s trying to look serious, but Draco can see the glint of amusement in his green eyes.

“Well you are pretty,” Draco says, looking him up and down appreciatively.

“And I am yours, too.”

“Mmm,” Draco agrees, stepping closer and raising Harry’s chin to kiss him again. Draco must say he appreciates having a boyfriend who’s smaller than him for once, the way Harry has to look up at him.  
When they part, Harry takes Draco’s hand and leads him towards the bedroom. 

Harry’s been in this flat so many times, but Draco doesn’t think he’s ever had a reason to go into his bedroom. When Harry stops just inside, taking in the tidy room, Draco steps behind him, wraps his arms around his waist, presses his lips against Harry’s ear. “Scared, Potter?” He tries to put amusement in it, and a hint of challenge, because Harry always responds well to a challenge.

“Never,” comes the reply, and a bit of the anxiety climbing in Draco’s chest melts away. Because as far as he knows Harry’s only ever been with cis guys. 

They fall on the bed kissing, and Draco takes Harry’s shirt off, then Harry returns the favour. He lets his fingers explore Draco’s chest, the firm muscles, the thin scars from the surgery. He looks up at Draco, kisses him again, murmuring against his lips.

“You’re so beautiful.”

The rest of their clothes soon end up on the floor, and later Draco will want to pick them up, fold them, but right now all that matters is Harry, sprawled under him, his glasses gone _somewhere_ , is black hair messily splayed around his face, against the green of Draco’s bedsheets. Did he unconsciously pick them because they were the colour of Harry’s eyes?

Draco kisses him, he will never tire of Harry’s lips, Harry’s tongue, the little noises that rise from him when Draco bites his lower lip. Then he moves to Harry’s neck, leaves marks there as if they were still teenagers. He’ll feel guilty about it in the morning. Maybe. Probably not.

Harry’s hands are on his shoulders, holding, grabbing, never pushing, as Draco’s name fall from his lips, over and over, becoming moans when Draco slides lower, takes him in his mouth. Harry is well-behaved, he doesn’t push in, lets Draco set his own pace, though his nails are digging into Draco’s shoulders.

“Draco,” Harry whines eventually, his legs trembling with need, “fuck, Draco, you need to stop or I’m gonna come!”

Draco hums around Harry’s cock, eliciting a few swear words from Harry, but with a final swirl of his tongue he lets him go, looks up at his lover. Harry looks wrecked, and Draco wants to finish what he started, to make him come with Draco’s name on his lips.

Draco sits up on the bed, leans towards the bedside table to pull out his lube and his strap on. Harry sits up too, puts a hand on Draco’s arm.

“Wait.” He looks dishevelled, and a little lost, and Draco wants to kiss him.

“Hmm?” he asks, pressing his lips against Harry’s neck.

Harry manoeuvres them so that Draco is the one lying on his back now. Draco looks up at him appreciatively.

“Before you fuck me silly with this very fun-looking thing,” Harry says, taking the strap-on from Draco’s hands and laying it on the bedside table, I want to make you feel as good as you made me.”

Draco bites his lower lip, looking up at Harry. He can’t help but to push his buttons.

“Oh, because you think you’re as good as me, do you? The great Harry Potter, sex god-”

He’s interrupted by a pillow thrown at his face, and is still laughing when he shoves it off. He parts his legs for Harry to settle between and raises an eyebrow, challenging. Harry huffs, runs his fingers along Draco’s thighs, but there’s something in his eyes Draco can’t read.

“You know, you don’t have to,” he says, softly, when Harry seems to hesitate.

Harry looks back at him, serious.

“No, I want to. It’s just… I’ve never done this before. I’m… not sure where to start. I mean, I thought I knew the theory, but this is not quite what I remember from sex ed…”

“So you’re _not_ a sex god?” Draco asks, and Harry slaps his thigh. “Ow,” he laughs.

“Come on, help a buddy out, man!” Harry whines, but he’s caressing Draco’s leg, and presses a kiss against the soft, sensitive skin on the inside of his thigh, and Draco shivers.

Draco sits up, leans in to kiss Harry, then takes his hand. He slides their fingers between his folds, guides Harry to his cock. “Here, that’s what you’re looking for,” he tells him. “It’s a bit different from yours, but surely you know what to do with a dick, right?” Draco raises an eyebrow, which earns him an eyeroll and a faint blush. Adorable. “You can rub it this way,” he shows him, and Harry takes over easily. “Yes, just like that.”

“Okay,” Harry breathes, smiling. “Anything else you like?”

Draco nods, and pushes Harry’s hand a little lower. Their combined fingers are slick now, and when he bringers Harry’s fingertips to his opening Harry easily slips inside with a little surprised “oh.” He wiggles his fingers a bit, and Draco moans.

“That feels… different,” Harry comments, then starts slowly pushing in and out. “Good?”

Draco nods, and Harry kisses him.

“Okay, I think I can take it from there. Sit back and relax, love.” And he pushes on Draco’s chest with his free hand.

Draco lets himself fall back on the bed, and Harry starts getting to work, finding out all the best ways to make Draco moan. It is ridiculous how easily he manages to master this skill, Draco starts wondering is maybe Harry _is_ some kind of sex god after all. Then Harry lowers his head, presses his tongue against Draco’s cock and Draco stops thinking altogether.

Much later, when Harry has fallen asleep sprawled all over Draco, his deep breath caressing Draco’s skin, Draco presses a kiss in the mess of black hair. Harry sighs, but doesn’t wake up. _His_ Harry. Who’s been by Draco’s side for what feels like his whole life. His port in the storm. His light in the dark.

“I love you, Harry Potter.”

The words are soft, just for himself, but he knows they are true. They have always been true.

He closes his eyes and lets sleep take him, feeling warm and safe in the embrace of the one he loves.

**Author's Note:**

> This fandom has meant a lot to me. It literally shaped who I am today. It was my first introduction to fanfiction, both reading and writing. The books and the fics made me learn English properly (French is my first language). The fandom allowed me to explore, understand and accept my own sexuality. While it was never perfect, it felt like home for almost 20 years.
> 
> JKR's hateful rethorics against our trans brothers, sisters, and other non-binary siblings break my heart. It makes me sick. I have no words to express just how much so. While this fandom will always be a part of me, of my history, it will never be the same. I am grateful for all the wonderful people it has brought into my life. So long, and thanks for all the friends.
> 
> If you are in a financial position to do so, please consider donating to a charity or non-profit that helps trans people, or fight for trans rights.


End file.
